His twisted, sad mind has imprisoned him.
When all was lost, his last bit of home slipped out like the blood from his wrists.
Trying to think back to the last time he was happy, but, it was just blank...darkness.
The endless path of nothingness that he once used to keep his sanity balanced.
All around him was hate.
They didn't care.
They didn't know.
And now here he is, lying on the floor with an empty orange bottle next to him.
He tried to scream for help, but nothing came out.
All there was is a faint cry, trapped in the back of his throat, waiting for release.
His life story, written on torn pages and washed away.
His thoughts used to run wild. There used to be many, but now there's only one.
"Why am I still here?"
YOU ARE READING
Poetry and Lyrics|| TRIGGER WARNING||
PoetryThese are just some really shitty poems that I wrote. All poems are written by ME unless I give someone else's, but I will give credit to that author, as well as the artist that has written that song. These poems are mostly about how I feel towards...
